


lone neon lights

by interstellarbeams



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Meet the Family (kinda), Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarbeams/pseuds/interstellarbeams
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen just wanted a night at the bar to herself -fateseemed to have other plans.





	lone neon lights

**Author's Note:**

> So... I started this fic back in October and now I’m finally getting it up! Not for lack of trying I can promise you. lol
> 
> This fic is based on Bloomsbury’s fanart found here and I would like to thank her for inspiring this oneshot with her fabulous drawing! 
> 
> Emily, thanks for being an awesome beta and finishing what Nora started! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated! <3

Daenerys had chosen the bar at random off the Yelp app. She needed a drink, and company was the last thing on her mind, despite her best friend Missandei’s willingness to be her shoulder to cry on. 

She just wanted to be alone, and it was less likely she would run into anyone she knew at an unfamiliar bar. She just hoped the ratings were reliable and the place wasn’t a dump.

Mentally crossing her fingers, she rattled off the street address to the waiting Uber driver and settled back against the seat, trying to ignore the thoughts racing through her head. She hadn't been able to quiet them ever since she had received disappointing news this afternoon. Hopefully a loud bar and emotion-numbing alcohol would remedy the situation.

She watched the lights of the city fly by, their edges blurring into halos around the raindrops on the window.The weather fit her mood, and she lost herself in the broody darkness.

After a few more minutes of quiet interrupted by a rush of tires on the wet asphalt, the car pulled up to the sidewalk outside the bar. Dany hopped out quickly, throwing her black leather jacket up over her head to protect her elaborate braid and bare arms from the chilly drops.

Hurrying into the bar, she almost collided with a dark figure hunched under the awning, his face barely lit by the burning end of a cigarette. A puff of smoke dissipated around her head as she reached for the door handle. She struggled not to cough -- she didn't want to be perceived as rude, despite his coarse manners -- and in the process, she accidentally inhaled the smoke.

She coughed loudly as she stepped through the wooden door. Her eye caught the patina of the brass door handle, proof of the countless hands that had touched it throughout the years. Dany felt a rush of disappointment at the meager crowd in the bar. The loud roar she had hoped would drown out her thoughts was replaced by a quiet, respectable hum. Perhaps it would get busier, she told herself.

She chose the stool farthest from the door, hoping to avoid the cool drafts that were bound to seek her out, and ordered a flavored whiskey. The cinnamon flavor felt warm as it slid down her throat, and she sighed in contentment. 

—————

She peered over her shoulder at the sound of loud cheering coming from the crowd around the dartboard. A lanky, skeevy looking guy caught her eye and she cursed herself as he made his way over -- her quick glance automatically becoming an invitation in his eyes.

She turned her eyes back to her drink, taking another small sip before she straightened the skirt of her red dress and prepared for battle.

The guy had the nerve to clear his throat at her and she turned to him swiftly and pinned him with a dismissive glare. 

“If you don't mind, I would rather be alone,” she stated, in her frostiest tone. 

“Aww, come on, a beautiful lady shouldn't drink alone,” he drawled, his voice as smooth and oily as a grease slick. 

“This _lady_ would prefer it,” she snapped. Snatching up her purse and jacket she blew past him and escaped into the bathroom.

 _Great, just great_ , she thought, standing at the single sink. _All I wanted was a little bit of a distraction and I get that guy._

Looking at her reflection, her family's characteristic white blonde hair and violet eyes stared back at her, reminding her of that awful scene with Viserys this afternoon. Daenerys bit her lip as tears filled her eyes, attempting to escape. _You would think my brother would be more considerate of my feelings_ , she thought. She pressed her palms onto the porcelain counter, forcing her thoughts under control. 

_I’m not going to let that greasy creep or my brother ruin my evening_ , she thought determinedly. 

Giving herself a once over, she let out a calming breath and pushed her arms into her jacket sleeves before heading for the door. 

—————

Dany strolled across the room, surveying the crowd. The place had unexpectedly become packed during the short time she had spent in the bathroom. Thankfully, the creep from the door was nowhere in sight. She only hoped he hadn't found another helpless girl to prey upon. Instead, her stool was occupied by a dark-haired young man. 

Striding back over to the bar, she pushed through the crowd and rested her elbows on the bartop, her hands clasped in front of her. She attempted to get the bartender's attention but he was too busy to notice or dismissed her as underage because of her small size and elfin features.

Groaning in frustration, she contemplated burying her head in her arms and releasing the tears that she’d been holding back all night. 

The scrape of a glass bottle against the wooden bar brought her out of her thoughts. A bottle of beer appeared in front of her, its brown glass sweating with condensation. 

“You look like you could use it more than me,” a soft voice said from beside her.

She turned toward him, the faint scent of cigarette smoke reminding her of her encounter at the front door. _Was this the same guy?_

 _He's kinda cute_ , she thought, as she took a swig of his beer. It tasted yeasty and dark. Daenerys was grateful, but she needed something stronger. 

Her night wasn't going as well as she had hoped it would on the way over from _Targaryen Enterprises_. Drowning herself in cinnamon-flavored whiskey was not what she wanted to be the highlight of her day. _Maybe you’re not doing so well_ , she thought to herself.

“Wanna talk about it?” the guy asked.

“ _Hmm_?” she hummed, eying him over the end of the tipped up bottle.

“Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?” he reiterated. His dark eyes were serious and calm. _Were they brown or dark grey?_ She couldn't really tell in the dim lighting. 

“Oh, um- no, not really.”

“Are you sure? You have a little crease in between your eyebrows that has been there for the last five minutes,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Daenerys lifted her fingers to her forehead self-consciously, before she dropped her hand to trace her finger along the side of the bottle.

“I don't normally tell my troubles to strangers,” she admitted.

“I’m Jon. Now we're no longer strangers,” he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

Dany felt the corners of her lips lifting as well. To be honest, she didn't mind him butting in, despite her earlier thoughts on spending the night alone. 

“Daenerys Targaryen,” she responded, putting her hand out to shake his before realizing her fingers were damp from the bottle. She looked around for a napkin but didn't see one anywhere. 

_God, Dany, why do you have to be so awkward? The first nice guy you meet in months, and you can't even introduce yourself without making a mess of it_ , she thought desperately.

Jon offered her a square of folded cotton from his pocket, and she wiped her fingers on it quickly. A blush suffused her cheeks, and her face suddenly felt like she was on the surface of the sun. 

He chuckled at her apparent embarrassment. She gave him a death glare, but he just kept on grinning. She shook her head before handing him back his handkerchief. _Who even carries handkerchiefs anymore?_

Dany cleared her throat nervously. Shooting a look down the bar, she finally caught the bartender's eye and ordered another whiskey. 

“Fireball, huh?”

She gave him a look as if to say, “ _Yes, what of it?_?”

“Sorry, just looking for a conversation starter,” he apologized, fidgeting with a ring of some sort. It was a silvery, matte color and looked like a wedding ring: not that she was an expert or anything, never having been married herself.

He caught her staring, and she suddenly had to pretend that she found the jewel-toned bottles shelved on the wall behind the bar a lot more interesting than anything he was doing. 

“It's okay. You can ask me,” he suddenly spoke up, although his eyes were downcast, transfixed by the twirling of the ring in his fingers.

“Oh, um- I’m sure it's personal. None of my business.” Dany took a sip of her whiskey, as she tried not to seem too flustered.

“So… you don't want to talk about your problems _and_ you don't want to ask me about mine-- what are you here for, then? I'm sure you could drink by yourself at home and save yourself the trouble of being around a poor bastard like me,” he drawled.

Daenerys fought the urge to roll her eyes. _I didn't sign up for this_ , she thought, before sighing and taking another drink from her glass.

“Is that a wedding ring?” she asked, knowing she had fallen right into the trap of sharing one’s woes with a stranger at the bar.

He was quiet for a time -- for someone who wanted _her_ to ask _him_ about his apparent problems, he was taking an awfully long time to answer. 

“Today was supposed to be my wedding day,” he finally admitted. 

“Oh yeah?” Daenerys replied, “What happened?”

Jon stayed silent for a few moments before answering as if to steel himself. 

“She passed away.” 

Dany didn't know what to say. She felt rude for prying into his personal life, even though he had basically prodded her into asking him what happened. She knew from personal experience what losing someone you loved did to you. Words really didn't matter, only actions. 

She reached over and placed her hand atop his and rubbed her thumb across his slightly rough knuckles. It wasn't much, especially coming from a stranger, but she hoped it offered him some sort of comfort. 

She drew back after a few moments, admiring the curve of his cheekbone, and the shadow of his stubbled jawline. 

“Well,” Daenerys cleared her throat. “Now my problems don't seem quite as bad. No offense.”

“It's okay, I understand,” Jon’s mouth lifted up on one corner. “Still don't want to talk about it?”

“What is _with_ you?” she blurted out, exasperated. Dany ducked her head, embarrassed at her outburst, _there’s really no need to take your anger out on him_ , she thought to herself.

“Sorry, sorry.” he huffed, tapping his finger against his temple. “I’m a psychologist. It's kinda wired in there.” 

“I’m _sorry_ ,” she lifted her head, finding it hard to look him in the eye but steeled herself to do it anyway, “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Jon shrugged, “To he honest, I’ve heard worse explosions from my patients.”

“But now that you mention it, that _actually_ makes a lot of sense,” Dany replied, a small smile pushing up on the corners of her mouth. She pushed a curl from her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, well… it pays the bills,” Jon shrugged, the dark shoulders of his jacket seemed like the dark wings of some bird of prey. “So what do _you_ do?”

“I work for my father, and kinda -- my brother. It's funny, actually--” Dany cleared her throat. “My work is what's been bothering me all day and I kind of came here to escape.” 

Jon smiled at her wryly, waiting for her to continue.

“So… yeah. My father started the company, but he has my brother Viserys running everything now. There was a job promotion that opened up, and I was so sure that this time, _this time_ , I would finally get promoted. You would think ten years would be long enough to be stuck in a entry level position, right?” Dany paused, as if waiting for an answer to a rhetorical question.

“But _no_ ,” she continued, “the job went to the _new girl_ , who only been with our department for six months. I mean, I might have gotten the job too, if only I was willing to have sex with my brother!” Daenerys finally broke off, trembling fingers pressed to her mouth, tears threatening to fall.

“That wasn't weird of me to say, was it?” she whispered.

Jon watched her with a frown, before reaching over and clasping her hand in one of his warm ones, mirroring her attempt at comforting him.

“No, not weird. Well, maybe it’s a little off to be talking about sleeping with your brother to get a promotion -- but, you know…” He trailed off for a second as Dany shot him a look. “But seriously,” Jon continued, “it's not _wrong_ to feel like your brother or father aren’t favoring you at work, and it's certainly not wrong for you to say it out loud. Those are your feelings and they’re valid. You needed to get it off of your chest, and you did. I think you should feel marginally better now, yeah?” 

Dany nodded, taking a big gulp from her glass. “I guess you are pretty good at this,” she smiled, catching a glimpse out the corner of her eye of his answering grin.

“I try.” 

“So, what made you decide to become a psychologist?” Dany asked, as she turned her body towards his. 

A brief frown formed between his eyebrows before his face cleared and he shrugged, “I guess I always wanted to know why similar circumstances affect different people in different ways. I think I’ve always been trying to figure out why things happened to me in the past, and this was my way of working that out.” He shrugged, taking a long swig from his beer bottle. 

Daenerys figured his past wasn't up for discussion, as he seemed unwilling to elaborate any further. She fidgeted with her empty glass, and gazed around the room behind his head.

The silence between them was awkward. Two strangers confiding some of their deepest pains, and now they didn't know how to continue the conversation. It felt strange to start talking about the banalities of favorite musicians and the latest books, now that they had delved so deep.

 _What if he didn’t even read?_ she thought. _Oh wait, he’s a psychologist, of course he read books!_

Daenerys gasped suddenly, as she was jostled and doused by a cold, sticky, and very copious amount of liquid. Cursing, she looked up, only to be faced with the sight of her accoster’s back. 

“Dick!” she shouted at him, not even caring if he heard her. Dany was prepared to defend herself if necessary, but the clearly drunk man just kept going, stumbling into others as he weaved through the crowd. 

“Somebody should call that man a cab,” she announced furiously through gritted teeth, scrubbing at the sticky drink that had spilled on her dress. “Shit, how am I gonna get this stain out?”

Jon watched her furious attempts with a look of chagrin. “Why don't you come over to my apartment, maybe I can find something else for you to wear?” he suggested. “I should have some club soda for that stain, too.”

“Oh, I don't know… do you really think-- I mean, we just met…” Daenerys trailed off, looking anywhere but at him, afraid to have offended him.

“... and I might be a serial killer, is that it?” he shook his head, smiling as if she had told a joke. “Would it make you feel better if I let you talk to my sister? She can vouch for me.” 

“Um, okay. How old is your sister? What's her name?”

Jon smiled slightly, tipping up his bottle and swallowing the last of his beer. 

“Her name’s Arya. She's fifteen and she's the toughest girl I know. She likes to tell me when I'm wrong. She takes great joy in it, actually.”

Daenerys followed him to the alcove by the door, as he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number. She shivered in the cold draft that seeped in as the door opened and listened to the dial tone ringing in her ear.

“Hello?” 

“Um, hi-- Is this Arya?”

“Yeah, who’s asking?” The voice sounded kind of surly but Dany figured she would be surly too if she was talking to some strange girl on the phone. 

“This is Daenerys. I'm with your brother Jon and I was just wondering if you could um-- verify that Jon isn't some kind of a serial killer…”

A peal of laughter, in strong contrast to the earlier surliness, filtered through the phone and made Dany grin to herself. _She did sound kind of silly, didn’t she?_

After a few minutes, the laughter finally quieted on the other end and a breathless voice answered, “I promise Jon’s not a serial killer. Serial brooder, definitely, and he has some figurative skeletons in his closet but no real dead bodies.” 

Daenerys snorted, “Thanks for that metaphorical yet reassuring speech.”

“And Daenerys…”

“Yeah?”

“Tell him not to brood so much. He's with a beautiful woman, I assume, and he just-- he needs a distraction, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Oh yeah, and be careful of his dog. He's a beast.” 

“What--?” Dany began to ask when the line went dead.

She handed Jon his phone back and, crossing her arms in front of her, she stared down at her boots. 

“Well…” Jon drawled, as he smoothed his hair out of his face and then tucked it behind his ears. 

Dany found herself staring - if anyone had asked her before today she would have said that anyone putting their hair behind their ears was decidedly feminine, but she found it incredibly attractive all of a sudden. Dragging herself out of her thoughts, Dany had to refocus in order to answer his question. 

“She said you _weren't_ a serial killer, that you brood too much, _obviously_ , and that I should try to distract you,” Dany said, surprised to find herself blushing again. 

This time it was Jon’s turn to look uncomfortable.

“Sounds about right.” Jon replied, “So… are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, did you call an Uber or…?” Daenerys trailed off. 

“Uh, actually, there's no need,” Jon gestured her forward and she preceded him into the entryway. 

Closing the door behind him, he turned to the right and disappeared into an open archway that she hadn't noticed before.

“The uh-- rent is a lot cheaper here because of the loud noises and the raucous drunks who stumble down the hallway at odd hours, but I make do.” He shrugged self-consciously, as he made his way down a dimly lit hallway and up a short flight of stairs.

Daenerys actually thought it was a pretty smart way to save money. 

Once they reached the landing, Jon dug in his pocket for a set of keys and unlocked the door.

Daenerys almost gasped when they went inside. It was a huge loft with high windows on one end of the room and exposed wood paneling on the other three walls. There was a large bed against one wall with an even larger painting above it featuring a frigid, grey whitecap sea. A sitting area with a leather couch, coffee table, and a monochrome area rug sat in the center of the room with a small kitchenette against the wall closest to the door. 

Almost as soon as she stepped in the room, a giant, white wolf-like dog came bounding toward her and she was about to scream before she remembered Arya’s warning about Jon’s beast. 

“Oh my god,” Dany breathed out, pressing her hand to her heart as the dog -- _wolf?_ \-- pressed his large, cold nose into her hand, sniffed around her feet, and then went bounding off to lay on the rug where he had been asleep just a moment before. 

“Oh, sorry.” Jon rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. “That's Ghost. He's my dog, I guess. We could never really figure out what breed he is. Back when we got him and his siblings, they were abandoned on the side of the road in a cardboard box. They definitely didn't have AKC certificates with them.” 

Daenerys smiled politely although she was still a little shaken by how big and _energetic_ his pet was.

—————

Daenerys was finally able to relax. Ghost didn't seem very interested in her, or anything really, now that he had investigated her.

 _Maybe he's just sleepy or old_ , she thought, _although he seemed very vivacious a few minutes ago_ , as she tightened the drawstring of the sweatpants that Jon had given her.

Since the loft was just one giant room, he had left to grab a smoke and give her some privacy to change.

She sniffed appreciatively at the large gray t-shirt that she had just pulled over her head -- thankful it didn't smell like cigarette smoke -- when a knock came at the door.

She froze for a minute wondering who it could be when Jon’s now familiar voice called out to her.

“Are you decent?”

“Uh…,” Dany balled up her dress and shoved it into her purse, “Yeah, yeah. I’m decent!” She called back, sitting down on his couch quickly and tucking her feet underneath her.

Jon stepped through the door and he was immediately bombarded by Ghost who skidded across the wood floors and almost collided with him.

Daenerys had to hold in a giggle at the surprised look on Jon’s face. 

“Ghost! Down!” Jon laughed, as he pushed the dog off, before he pulled his wallet and pack of cigarettes out of his pockets and placed them on the kitchen counter.

He crossed the room and sat on the coffee table across from her, probably still afraid to invade her personal space. 

“So…” Jon cleared his throat, linking his fingers together in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees, “Uh, sorry about that.”

Daenerys stared at him, forgetting, for a moment, what had happened just a few minutes before.

“Oh, no. You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault. That drunk should have been the one to apologize, but he was so out of it he should have been on another planet.” She laughed, somewhat nervously.

“Still, you were _with_ me. I should have said something to that jerk, at least,” Jon continued.

“It's fine, really. I could have handled it,” Daenerys replied.

There was another awkward silence and Daenerys didn't know what to do. She didn't usually have this problem. _Was it some kind of sign that she should leave? They couldn't even carry on a simple conversation_ , she thought desperately.

“Would you like a drink? I don't have Fireball, but I’ve got some beer or…” He trailed off as he crossed to a liquor cabinet. She heard the clink of glass bottles before he came back with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. “I noticed you really didn't seem too thrilled when you took a sip of my beer earlier.” 

Daenerys took the bottle from his hand and headed into the kitchen area. Jon trailed behind, opening a cabinet and pulling out a glass before he pulled a beer out of the fridge. Dany poured her wine slowly, swirling the wine around the glass. She sniffed it delicately before taking her first sip.

When she opened the wine, she noticed it wasn't the first time the bottle had been opened. She opened her mouth to ask him why he had white wine on hand but decided better of it. Maybe his dead fiancé had been a wine drinker. She didn't want to pull up any bad memories or anything.

She walked back into the living area, this time tucking her feet underneath her as she snuggled into the end of the couch opposite of Jon. 

After a few more minutes of silence, she finally decided that it wasn't her fault he wasn’t talking. 

Apparently, Jon was this quiet all the time. So different from her brother who always needed attention and always talked. 

Her father was similar, except that what he said was actually important and worth listening to, no matter how pompous his attitude. Dany knew not to get on his bad side, but Viserys was worse by far. He threw horrendous temper tantrums and, if she was being honest, he would abuse her, pinching, slapping, and threatening her every time that she didn't do the job to his satisfaction. Sometimes though, it was just because he could.

Dany stared blankly into her wine glass, wondering why she even bothered working for the family company when she was treated so horribly. _Why don't you just quit? Isn't that what you've always wanted, ever since you were old enough to intern -- to leave?_

“Is everything okay?” Jon asked, brow furrowed in concern. 

She hadn't realized she was crying until he had said something and now she found she couldn't stop. _What was wrong with her?_

“Hey, hey-- it's okay,” Jon grabbed her wine glass from her hand and placed it on the coffee table before moving closer. He shushed her, the touch of his hand on her shoulder gentle and comforting, yet so unusual. _Where were the jeers and the taunts, the ugly words and fists?_

Dany cried harder despite her attempts to control her sobs. She grabbed onto Jon, not caring that they were literally strangers. She only wanted comfort and warm arms to hold her, arms that felt secure like the ones in her dreams as a little girl. 

She surprisingly felt at home. Weird, she hadn't felt that way for as long as she could remember. 

She slowly came back to herself with the smell of Jon’s cologne in her nose and the warmth of Ghost pressed against her leg. 

“I’m sorry. I don't know why I did that,” Dany apologized as she rubbed her hand against the damp stain she had left on his shoulder. 

His dark, serious eyes watched her carefully, but he didn't say anything. She wondered for a moment whether he had even heard what she said, but then he smiled. 

“Hey, I listen to people's problems for a living. I may not be the best at dealing with tears, but I’m not immune.” 

“Right-- I guess that makes sense,” Dany smiled back apologetically.

She looked down to find Ghost’s large head resting on her lap and she absentmindedly patted his head. His tail thudded loudly against the floor and Jon laughed.

“I think he's found his new favorite person.” 

“Oh.” Daenerys smiled sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“No need, he’s been kind of lethargic ever since Ygritte left… my fiancé, uh-- my _dead_ , uh…” Jon trailed off awkwardly. 

Daenerys pretended like she didn't hear his gaffe. She took another sip of wine instead and gazed at the landscape over the bed.

“Uh--” Jon cleared his throat, “You like that?” 

He pointed toward the painting. “My sister, Sansa, painted that for me. She said it was like me, ‘gray, gloomy and turbulent,’ whatever that means.” 

“How many sisters do you have?” Daenerys gaped at him and then at the painting. “Are they all that talented?”

“Uh, just two. Arya isn't a painter, but she's a wicked martial artist.” Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “To be honest, she can kick my ass seven ways to Sunday.”

Daenerys snorted on her sip of wine, sputtering as she almost spit it out on her loaner clothes. How embarrassing. _Maybe I’ve had enough alcohol for tonight_ , she thought as Jon thumped her between the shoulder blades with his broad palm. 

Once she could control her coughing, she stood up, took her wine glass, and set it by the sink. Jon watched her from the couch, but he didn't say anything.

“So… is that all? Two sisters? I always wanted a sister.” Daenerys didn't mention the fact that she once had an older sister, but she had died before Dany had even gotten the chance to know her. 

She trailed her hand over the top of the desk in the corner, but didn't see any personal mementos or framed photos.

“Actually, I have three brothers. One’s older, two are younger. They're a real handful. We all are, when we get together. It's chaos really.”

“You don't know how much I would give to have a family gathering like that. Mine are always chaotic, but it's mostly because of the hateful yelling and all the forceful personalities,” Daenerys explained, staring down at her clasped fingers. 

“Well,” Jon said as he came to stand in front of her, “maybe we can fix that. How about you come with me to my family's next get-together.”

Daenerys stared at him. _Is he for real?_

“I promise I'm not pulling your leg. I really enjoyed spending time with you tonight. Despite the tears and the drunks,” Jon chuckled.

Daenerys wanted to laugh too, but she oddly felt like crying. _Who would have thought that my horrible day would turn into this? An accidental date with a stranger._

A tear rolled down her cheek, but she smiled up at him before wiping it away.

“I would seal it with a kiss,” Daenerys teased, “but I don't think we're quite there yet.”

“How about a hug instead?” Jon offered.

It was definitely something that Daenerys was willing to do and it felt just as wonderful as it had earlier that evening when she had cried in his arms.

—————

She stared down at the stained, wrinkled red dress she had been wearing earlier in disgust. Jon saw her less than pleased face and allowed her to borrow his clothes for a while longer.

Gathering up her purse, jacket, and phone, Dany rubbed Ghost’s ears before telling him goodbye and making her way to the door. 

They stood there, somewhat awkwardly, despite all the emotional moments of the night and Daenerys wasn't sure what to say. _Thank you_ , didn't seem like enough, but she also didn't want to get into cheesy territory by being too sappy.

“I’ll be expecting those back,” Jon nodded toward her borrowed sweats while managing to make her blush.

 _Was that a come on or am I just desperate? Or drunk?_ Dany wondered.

“You just might,” she flirted back, rather lamely.

“Um, okay-- _bye_ ,” she waved as she walked through the door.

“Goodbye, Daenerys Targaryen.” Jon replied, standing in the doorway, the soft light of his apartment glowing behind him.

As she watched the hazy lights of the city fly by, she couldn't help but hope that there were many more _intentional_ meetings between them in the future.


End file.
